The Legend of Zelda--Chains of the Past
by Ray Sapphire
Summary: Link has always been the Hero of Time, through every generation, in every shadow. But what is this Hero when Time is broken?


CHAINS OF THE PAST

Ray Sapphire

Time. On how many occasions a day do we use that word? That simple word. We can measure time as it passes. We have learned how to use the sun, a clock, a watch. But the essence of Time? Never. How it moves, how it changes, how to manipulate it. And because we cannot understand we turn away and live life. Hoping for a brighter future, reveling in the possibility of _something_. A gift. But that is not living in the moment. Any second the next moment could be stolen from you, forever. And forever is a very long time.

Isn't it?

Ages ago, eons ago there was a blessed land. It stood apart from the rest of the world—if one existed. It mattered little. What did matter was the amount of energy in the land: the brilliance of its inhabitants. It was a powerful land, guarded by the goddesses themselves. And yet—and _yet_—one day, one moment, two miracles occurred at the same time that would reshape Hyrule…forever.

"Let me in! Let me in," the man insisted, trying to dodge the quivering young woman before him. Trembling as she was, she blocked his path.

"Sire, it is not finished yet…" She pleaded. One shaking hand stretched out in front of the oaken doors she barred, the other convulsively curled into the folds of her long red skirt. The King looked frantic.

Another scream from behind the doors. And another. And another. They escalated in volume and intensity until the King was nearly panicking. The young girl said softly, "My Lord, it is nearly done. It always becomes worse before it gets better."

The wails stopped suddenly. The air seemed to still and tauten…waiting. Then came a soft thump and the wails of a baby. And a gentle voice. The caregiver stepped nimbly aside as the King threw open in the doors and rushed in. He vaguely heard the woman calling from the doors and saw another girl exit the room, but his eyes were fixed on the shivering, slender form under the thin silken sheets of the large bed. He leaned over, peering with narrowed, hopeful green eyes.

The figure in the bed rolled ever so gently over to face him. A fan of long black hair lay damp across her pillows and her face was flushed, but the bright blue eyes were beyond joyful. She slowly and carefully pulled the cocoon of sheets away from her chest and allowed her husband to lift the small form huddled there into his waiting arms. His hands were trembling with fear and amazement.

The baby stretched a tiny pink arm and caught his trimmed golden beard in a firm grip. The father hardly noticed as he looked down on the smooth, rosy face; the delicate little nose; the wide, light blue eyes framed by dark lashes wet with tears.

"She's beautiful…is she not?" The Queen said dreamily.

Her husband reached down and gripped her slender hand in his broad, tan one and squeezed gently. "She looks like you, Nepthys," he began, but just then the infant tugged hard on his beard and he yelped, "and she has your impertinence, too!"

Nepthys laughed, her eyes shining, as the baby squirmed and whimpered frustratedly in his arms. "And your temper, my love."

A shadow shifted in the dark corner behind the King and Nepthys gave a startled cry. But the King turned and smiled at the figure, with a merry greeting of "Krade! You are here—just in time to welcome our little princess." He tipped his arms gently to show the now silent child to the newcomer. "Isn't she beautiful?"

Krade stepped out of the shadows. He was a tall, strongly built man, with broad shoulders and the form of a seasoned soldier. Over the traditional royal purple tunic of the King's guard her wore a long, ash gray cloak emblazoned with the crest of Hyrule on each shoulder. His face was foreign—proudly angled, with a long determined nose and dark lips pulled into a permanent half-smile. His dark gray eyes were almond-shaped and slightly angled, under the shadow of dark black eyebrows drawn thoughtfully together. His hair was cut longer than average—down nearly to his shoulders in an uninterrupted sheet of raven. As he moved forward, his nose wrinkled ever so slightly in disgust. "Yes, Sire. She is." He agreed in his rolling accent.

The King laughed. "She's a baby, Sir Krade, she won't hurt you." He reconsidered, tipping his head thoughtfully towards the infant. "Unless you have a beard. Which you do not…"

Krade nodded, though he still kept his distance. As his Lord turned away to walk back to his wife, Krade called hesitantly, "My friend, you are going to name her? She won't become "Princess Beautiful," I hope?"

Nepthys did not react when her husband broke out laughing, but kept her eyes intently on Krade, her gaze unfathomable. Krade seemed not to notice.

"Of course not!" the King chuckled. "Nepthys? Your thoughts, sweetest?"

Nepthys turned her piercing blue gaze to her husband and her lips curled upwards in a motherly smile. "Heargon, if it would please you…may I see the family book? I believe your ancestors surely bear a worthy name."

The King nodded, still absorbed in the face of his tiny daughter. "Amon? AMON!" He called distractedly. At his voice a tall, thin boy slid into the room, hastily brushing his dark red hair from his eyes. "Sire?" He said, tentatively.

"Ah, young Amon….the Queen wishes to have the family book. Fetch it—and be careful of Nelder, he's in a temper—again." He flashed a warm smile at the serving boy, who chuckled at the referral to the grumpy bookkeeper.

"At once, my Lord." Amon said instantly, and vanished back into the Hall.

"Hmm, good boy, that Amon. I'd promote him if he weren't so helpful where he is!" Heargon commented. The rosy-cheeked girl in his arms burbled happily at him. As the King studied her, he looked up at his wife and back again, frowning slightly.

"Heargon?" Nepthys inquired. "What disturbs you?"

"It isn't anything wrong," he responded immediately, the creases in his face smoothing as he smiled, "I simply noticed how much she looks like her beautiful mother."

Nepthys blushed slightly. The Queen, much like Krade, was not fully Hylian. Nepthys herself had little idea of her mother country—all she knew was that it was years from the farthest border of Hyrule, and the goddesses had warned her people that the land must be abandoned. Yet still nearly three-quarters of them had died on their exodus—she and Krade were among the very few who had chosen to live near the Hyrulian kingdom. At first, the dark skin, black hair, and angled eyes had unsettled natives. But over the years, the people were as much devoted to their Queen as their King.

Nepthys glanced at her daughter and a laugh bubbled up from her lips. "She's not quite as dark as me."

"No…but I— " Heargon was cut off as the child pulled his beard again, this time with a small wail. "Holy Farore above, she _has_ got your jealousy! I look away for five seconds—" Nepthys laughed again, louder, as the baby stretched out a little hand and slapped her father's cheek—almost in retaliation.

"And, dearest…_your_ temper." Nepthys said sweetly.

Heargon gave another hearty laugh as he allowed his child to rest her curly head against his chest. He didn't see when the smile slipped from his wife's face, the way she gave Krade a calculating look. Or the way his dark eyes bored into hers.

Amos reentered the room, hauling a book that was nearly a foot thick, bound in sturdy leather and artfully embossed with gold runes. The pages paled from yellowed brown to the Royal Book.

Amos heaved it across the room and set it down with as little thumping as possible. Nepthys gave him a charming smile and bade him to go and enjoy his evening meal with the rest of the palace boys. Amos beamed and stuttered a thank you before slipping away, leaving the new family and Krade alone.

Nepthys had begun flicking rapidly through the books with mindful care, slowing as she came to names towards the middle of the book.

Her breath caught as she stared a name written in refined calligraphy, entwined in the midst of a family tree.

"Oh, yes…" She breathed. "Oh, yes indeed…my Lady." It was almost as if…she were speaking to someone else.

Her eyes seemed to glaze over for a few moments, but then she raised her head and called softly, "Heargon! I believe I have found a fitting name."

Heargon edged over to the bed. His narrow green eyes fell on the name that was penned in the very center of the elaborate tree.

His smile, if it was possible, widened. "Oho! I quite agree, Nepthys."

He whispered her name, then shouted it with glee, pleased with his small princess.

Nepthys' face glowed copper in the light from the fire, and Krade's eyes flashed dangerously at the single word, the two syllables that had etched such a deep carving in the work of art that was Hyrule. This child would change their world forever—that was sure. This little infant. That one small girl.

Princess Zelda of Hyrule.

Hyrule was sometimes called the Star City—not only for its picturesque scenery and its glorious history, but for the simple reason that Hyrule was shaped like a starburst. At its center was Hyrule castle town—a large circle with rings inside, each one higher than the last, fortified with tall white walls, each about twenty feet high. The outer wall was over sixty feet tall.

Around this mountain of a city was a ring of rather tightly packed villages. After a few miles, they began to spread apart into narrow strips or "points" of settlements. As they grew longer, the points grew farther apart until they formed the spokes of the star around Hyrule City.

One point was set between two rivers—the Greenlimb and the Plains. The Greenlimb flowed from under the shady, sprawling Green Forest that curved around and carved into the two spokes to the East of the point between the two rivers. Thus the sector had extremely fertile land and became the main source of agriculture for the Hyrule. The two sectors near the woods were the mills, and the one farther to the east of those was the woodworking sector. Each sector, you see, had a specific duty assigned it, according to geography. The people were free to move from sector to sector as they wished.

Returning to the Farming Sector… On the outskirts of this prosperous area the houses were even farther apart, to allow more room for the even more fertile land to produce. In one of the more run-down homes, a light burned through the rippling glass windows. A large, gloved hand threw open one of the windows suddenly, and two voices seeped into the night air, but only to disturb the night creatures.

"Neurian, please!" demanded a woman, lying on a heather-stuffed cot in the corner. She fixed blazing, dark blue eyes on her husband, who had raised both gloved hands in a pleading gesture.

"Milwiel, you need to see reason!" He took a step forward and brushed a strand of the woman's long chestnut hair from her face. She tilted her chin upwards in a gesture of defiance, her cheeks flushing pink. Her complexion was pale, almost flaxen, and scattered with freckles so pale that that were hardly visible—just enough to give her skin a coppery glow. Those, with her dark chestnut hair, made her almost seem like a summer spirit. Her eyes were the color of day fading to dusk, or the shade of the sea as the sun was beginning to rise. It made it hard to determine her feelings when she wished to hide them.

At the moment, however, Neurian had no trouble reading the helpless resentment and exhaustion in her eyes.

"Dearest, the night is growing older each second. You need to sleep…as does our son." Neurian leaned down and peered at the hale baby boy cooing up at him from his mother's lap. His hair was already growing thick and dark chestnut. His face recalled his mother's, but more manly even now, and with a strong chin. His eyes, too, were his mother's. He hardly looked like his auburn-haired, strongly muscled, and very tall father.

"I am going. Alone." Neurian stated emphatically. "You will stay, you will rest—that does not visiting neighbors or cleaning house!—and feed the baby."

Milwiel's strawberry lips parted in mock indignation as she sank resignedly on her pillows.

Her eyes drifted shut tiredly.

They flew open again as her husband called in his merry baritone, "And I expect the little tyke to have a name when I get back, by the goddesses!"

The mother gave a mirthful laugh despite herself and pulled her child closer to her breast.

"Well, little one, your father is right….for once. You need a name." The infant squirmed as she held him up in the air slightly, so that they were eyelevel. He fell silent as their eyes met.

For a moment, she simply smiled at her baby.

Then a tingling shiver ran up her spine and she trembled. The room seemed to freeze and the air to thicken as the identical irises focused on each other.

Then the boy gave a curious smile at his mother and stretched out a chubby hand to the hollow of her throat, to a long leather chain that was strung around her neck and vanished into her forest green dress.

Milwiel gasped and pulled away from the innocent touch. "Oh…" She gently tugged on the leather string and lifted it slowly until a small golden disc was revealed on the end of the string. With a quick movement she moved a small latch of the side and the disc opened like the wings of a butterfly.

For a moment, the young mother hesitated. Then, with a jerk, she turned the disc over to look at what she knew was inside.

A small, wonderfully done portrait of a young woman was framed inside. The painting had been done by Milwiel's great-great-grandmother…a portrait of her grandmother's friend…Eldaz.

The baby looked like she could be her twin brother, even one hundred years later….so alike…

"Do you know, grandmother often said that her friend carried a token of the Hero with her. No one can remember Eldaz's story today…but I shall name you after the name tied with hers."

The little boy stared directly at his mother with mirthful eyes. Dusky blue eyes.

"Link."

Link pulled on the reins gently, and Epona slowed to a walk as they approached the crest of the hill. Smiling, he reached down with one hand to pat her sides gently, allowing his uncovered fingers to sink into the cool, coppery hair. Epona nickered quietly, and turned her head to look at the teen with one round black eye.

"As you wish, then," he laughed, straightening on her back. As they mounted the final steps of the slope, he glanced over is shoulder just to check in anyone was looking. It would not please his father to learn that he had been riding bareback on his prize mare.

The horse's sturdy hooves had touched the peak of the hill. Link let out a small sigh of pleasure as the clear wind rushed over him at last. The fields, which had been before hidden by the hill, were spread open before him in a gently rolling sea of glimmering green grass. The breeze only slightly disturbed the serenity of the emerald plain, each stem standing upright and giving off that sweet, sultry smell only it can give. Far off, a line of high, rolling mountains marched along the horizon, gleaming softly in the sunlight that was mellowed by the trains of white clouds spun across the sky. Almost directly behind Link, if he turned to look, stood a single, lonely mountain. Far taller and more graceful than the others, it shone pure white stone—Mount Hera, the center of Hyrule. Somewhere behind all those trees and villages lay the palace, but Link cared little for that. Not today.

His eyes fell lovingly on the forest in the other direction—directly ahead and far closer. This forest had no true name, but the locals of this farming district called it Tacita Woods. No one was entirely sure which language the word came from, and perhaps some child had simply made it up, but it was agreed that the word meant "silent." Silent Woods. The name suited it beyone all belief. Only a few steps in you could only hear the wind and the animals, then a few yards later you could only hear the animals. Then only the birds. Then only yourself. And then your rapid heartbeat. But the forest wasn't scary, not really. The trees were all strudy, broad ones—good for climbing. The leaves turned early and fell late, and the same aura that kept the woods quiet and revered kept the leaves from spoiling for many years, so that a thick coat of golden-red leaves always carpeted the soil.

Link came back to himself. "All right, girl." He breathed. "Let's go. Hah!" With a shout that was somewhere between call and exultation, he started forward, Epona's sleek sides rippling as she leapt into a swift trot.

The breeze felt a bit cold in the shaded field at this pace, but Link's eyes were on the rushing green grass that skimmed beneath him.

And then the clouds parted and radiant light spilled over the grass. The green grass was suddenly mixed with gold, and gem-bright flowers glowed from every open gap. Butterflies and bees sailed through the miraculously warmed air, shining strange and wonderful. The air warmed and felt sultry and heady on his skin. The breeze picked up to a delicious wind, and Link shouted, "Fly, girl!"

Epona sailed harder, muscles moving effortlessly as she soared across at a breathtaking speed, the wind fanning her mane into a copper spray and brushing back Link's untamed, feathery blond hair.

Without warning the wind changed direction, hitting Link cruelly in the back and making Epona slip slightly. The air had turned cold, cold as winter frost, and the wind was even more chilled. His light tunic and Epona's short copper hair were too little to defy the cold. The sun was still shining, but a shadow, impossibly black and menacing, was spilling over the land like something alive. Link gave a cry, and pulled expertly on the reins, turning Epona and slowing her at the same time. The horse and rider were now facing the East, panting hard with fright.

"Great goddesses." Link gasped. His dark blue eyes widened as they fixed on the cause of the darkness—a rising tide of pure black. It was somewhere between solid and storm, and no light whatsoever emerged from it. No lightning. No fire. And it wasn't like normal darkness—like the absence of light, of being. It was something, something alive. Something that spilled hatred over Hyrule like a cloak of malice.

With a cry Link spurred Epona on, clamping his knees tightly to her sides, as all good riders can. Her hooves no longer seemed to skim the grass, and Link, glancing down, realized with horror that the grass was literally dying—not withering, but turning into an inky black haze and dissipating into nothing.

…Or adding to the gathering storm.

Epona charged up the slope they had begun at, eyes wild, and reared backwards with one of the most heart-tearing sounds in the world: a horse's scream. Link echoed her with a shout of sudden shock and horror as he looked down at his home and the town in the distance.

What used to be his home and town. The ground was hard and cold as ice, with no vegetation whatsoever. The house was just dissipating into shadow, just as the meadows had, and the town in the distance was ablaze with purple fire that swallowed the horizon. Link's fear turned to anger, and he reached over his shoulder for his training sword. It would do. It would serve his new and only purpose.

There was no doubt in his mind that his family and friends were dead.

A horse roar, a challenge, burst from his lips as he turned, horse and boy speeding faster than ever back, back into the shadow—

Racing to meet it—

Die—

You will pay—

My family—

A tidal wave of sound thundered from the black mass, and Link realized with a vindictive, righteous anger that it was _laughter_. The _thing_ was alive.

Good.

That meant it could also die.

Time seemed to slow down, Link rising and falling on Epona's back, the shadow reaching hungrily for this Hylian, the wasteland blurring out of focus.

"_There is still time_."

It took Link a second to process that the voice had come from inside his head. A female voice, neither naïve nor wise, but filled somehow with age.

"_Turn back. Revenge will cause your fall_."

"I can't. There is no hope for the darkness or for me. Today we both die."

"_No, no_!" The voice took on urgency. "_You must turn back! You must understand—that is the problem at hand, the destruction of all things! It has no hope, but you do_!"

"I don't!"

The Shadow was only half a mile away.

"_You can_."

"For whom? Myself? Out of greed?"

Closer. Ever closer, the cold…

"_You might be the one who needs to survive_."

A quarter of a mile…

"If that were true, I would have a chance. I don't. I'm going down fighting."

A meter. A foot.

Darkness.

Nothingness. Link swung his sword, pulling on the reins, only to find that he held no sword, and Epona was gone. He was utterly alone on his weary feet, blinded and in pain.

The laughter hurt his ears, his heart, and his soul. No. No. NO!

A sensation of falling to his knees. Nothing was making sense. The boy lost coherency.

A girl's voice screamed inside his head—a primal scream. Link knew she was dying. And then the surface he had collapsed on shattered and he was free-falling on his back, cold air tearing him apart.

Falling—

No—

Cold, so very cold….

And then—a voice. The gentle voice, riding the wind with him, shielding his mind from the wind that was ripping his clothes to tatters.

"_Hero, the problem at hand! You are the guardian of hope, and you cannot wield Hate. You must turn back_!"

"No….I can't….help me." The sensation of falling increased and the air chilled further. "Please."

"_You must have hope in yourself_."

"Why-?"

And then he hit the ground and the pain burned his entire being. A scream of grief and rage burst from his lungs, and there was no end to the pain.

"LINK!"

…And he slammed to the ground, sunlight in his eyes and the quilts off his bed tangled around his body.


End file.
